


something here inside

by ephemera (incognitajones)



Series: Asterisms [12]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Chance Meetings, F/M, Late at Night, Montreal, Past Relationship(s), Snow Day, Winter, suggestive candy eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/ephemera
Summary: Running into your ex? Always awkward.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from **mollivanders** : _how about jyn/cassian + smoke gets in your eyes?_

On a scale of one to excruciating, bumping into your ex at the corner store in the middle of the night while you’re stocking up on PMS supplies is fairly high.

Cassian’s eyes skim over Jyn’s shopping basket, full of chocolate-covered pretzels, Reese’s peanut butter cups, and cheap red wine. She knows he recognizes the combination, but he’s too polite to comment on it or on her sad troll ensemble of ratty yoga pants and a shapeless, faded hoodie that used to belong to him (Jyn had honestly forgotten that until now, and her blush intensifies).

Still, the embarrassment scales may be even given Cassian’s habit of heading to the store late at night to buy cigarettes. It was a feeble effort to hide his smoking from her, and it was also what caused the final argument that ended in her walking out.

Jyn admits she’s never been rational on the topic of smoking. She can’t be, not after watching her godfather Saw’s agonizing, drawn-out death. She started with lecturing Cassian, moved on to constant nagging, and by the time things were really bad between them she’d taken to flushing his cigarettes down the toilet whenever she found a pack.

Cassian agreed with her; of course he did. These days even smokers have to agree that it’s an awful habit. But he always had some bullshit excuse about how it was too stressful at work to quit right now and he’d do it next week, or next month, or later in the year.

In retrospect, Jyn can see it’s amazing that the two of them didn’t break up months earlier. She’d gone well past concerned partner and into raging control freak territory. It still makes her feel ashamed of herself, and it would even if it hadn’t led to the destruction of the only romantic relationship she’s ever managed to maintain for longer than a couple of weeks.

But tonight all that Cassian’s buying is a jug of milk and a pack of gum.

He sees her eying his purchases and grimaces. “I, uh, quit.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks down at his feet, scuffing the toes of his sneakers against the grubby floor. “Better late than never, hey?”

She presses her lips together to hide her astonishment and nods.

“Kay started quoting statistics at me non-stop.” He scoops his change off the counter and shoves it in his jeans. “You should have heard him go on about the probability of erectile dysfunction in male smokers.”

Jyn firmly restrains herself from blurting out that she’d never been concerned about that issue with Cassian.

“Well. That’s great,” she says, trying to sound sincere. It _is_ great, and she’s happy. But jealousy stings like a pinprick in her heart. Apparently, once Cassian’s best friend got involved, that was a good enough reason to quit. Just not for her.

Jyn pinches the side of her leg and reminds herself that between hormones, exhaustion, and sadness at seeing the one that got away, she’s not in any mental state to be judging people. She should just pay for this stuff and get back to her apartment so she can hide away for the rest of the weekend.

The cashier grunts at her and she dumps her essentials on the counter to be rung through. Cassian doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t leave either. When Jyn taps her debit card against the reader, the long, loud beep makes them both flinch.

“Walk you home?” he offers.

Jyn shrugs, shoving her card back into the pocket of her—Cassian’s—hoodie. The neighbourhood’s not that dangerous, but Cassian has always been chivalrous to a fault.

They walk silently down the empty sidewalks. Cassian stoops to pick up a discarded bottle and toss it in the trash, and Jyn bites her lip again at the reminder of just how fucking _nice_ he is. Why couldn’t she have managed not to drive him away?

A few cabs pass, ferrying hollering drunks home after last call, but otherwise the night is quiet. Jyn looks down at the heavy bags dangling from her hands, plastic stretched thin and translucent. They don’t talk. The hum emanating from the street lights high above their heads buzzes in her ears.

When they reach her apartment building, Jyn plumps one bag down on the stoop. She fishes her keys out and braces for an awkward goodbye.

“Thanks,” she mutters, but that doesn’t seem like enough. “It was nice to see you,” she adds, even though that’s an utter lie. It wasn’t nice; it just brought back all her regrets about how things ended between them. She should probably apologize, but useless apologies are one of her least favourite things. It’s too late for it to do any good now.

She picks up her bag and prepares to go inside, barricade herself on her couch, and ignore the rest of the world for at least 36 hours.

“I read a bunch of stuff that said you needed an incentive to quit,” Cassian says abruptly. “That you should reward yourself for getting to certain milestones.”

Jyn turns around, frowning. What’s his point?

He moves closer: one pace, two. With her standing on the first step, they’re nearly the same height; she might even be a quarter-inch taller. “So I told myself my reward for making it to six weeks would be calling you.”

“How long has it been?” She can feel her heartbeat thudding all the way to her fingertips.

His laugh is bitten off, self-deprecating. “Four weeks.”

“Way to go,” she says encouragingly. “That’s pretty good.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, and the familiar crooked line of his mouth makes her grin in return. “Would you consider making a date with me for two weeks from tonight? Then I’ll definitely have motivation to stick with it.”

Jyn nods, slowly. “I’d like that.” She hooks his pinkie with hers, their shopping bags knocking together. “But maybe you deserve an early reward.”

Before she can talk herself out of it, she darts forward to kiss the corner of his lips, soft and quick. When she pulls away, in the sodium glow of the light above her door his wide eyes are a soft amber.

“See you in two weeks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I realize that given the prompt, this is kind of a weird fill. How we ended up here:  
> I avoided riffing off the [song lyrics](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/platters/smokegetsinyoureyes.html) because they seemed to demand something sad/angsty (though the title is a line from them), and I wanted to write a more hopeful piece. I made a few attempts at GFFA-verse with literal smoke, but none of those were turning out happily either. So I tried a modern AU setting—and this semi-metaphorical take on the concept fell out of my head.
> 
> In case you were wondering, Jyn’s opinion of smoking is definitely a self-insertion; after a family member’s death from lung cancer I can’t be neutral on the topic. Yes, it’s probably OOC. ::shrug::
> 
> p.s. I'm the [same person](https://incognitajones.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come and say hi if you like.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The (unhappy) prequel.
> 
> Inspired by a "before the beginning" prompt request from **rain_sleet_snow** on Tumblr.

When Cassian stealthily unlocks the door and slips into his apartment, Jyn is already awake, staring at the alarm clock on his nightstand. The red numbers glare back at her: 2:49.

Next she hears him rustling in the kitchen, trying to be quiet as he opens a window. She hasn’t been able to sleep well in four nights, since their last fight about this, and she feels exhausted and fragile as an eggshell. He might at least have tried to refrain from sneaking out for cigarettes the next time she stayed over, but clearly that was too much to ask.

The ceiling doesn’t have an answer for her, other than the one she’s been trying to avoid for a week now: this is the end.

She gets out of bed quietly, grabs her gym bag and starts to throw in everything of hers that’s migrated over to Cassian’s apartment since they started seeing each other.

There’s more than she would have expected: not just a toothbrush and one of her eyeliner pencils, but a history book Cassian recommended that she’s been (very slowly) reading. A couple of t-shirts. The pair of earrings she took off after a night out—the first time she stayed over here—and forgot. She jams it all into the bag with the sweaty clothes she brought from the gym and silently pushes the bedroom door fully open.

Part of her wants to leave without saying anything, just sneak out—how long would it take him to notice she was gone?—and ignore his subsequent, probably panicked texts. But that would be childish, and Jyn is trying hard to be a grownup about this. Even if this whole experiment shows that she’s very far from being one.

So she pauses in the kitchen doorway, illuminated only by the light above the stove, and says all that she has to say. “I can’t do this any more. I’m sorry.”

Cassian whips around with the speed of guilt. She doesn’t see a cigarette, but that probably just means he dropped it out the window to the back alley when she spoke. He’s disconcertingly good at lying, and Jyn has trust issues upon issues. When she thinks about it, it’s kind of amazing that they lasted even this long.

“What?”

He’s only stalling for time; she knows he heard her. She looks at his silhouette in the darkness, trying to think of something else to say. Is there any way she could somehow get through to him?

No. She’s tried, tried so hard they’re both sick and tired of it. It’s time to cut her losses, stop tormenting Cassian, and go. She shakes her head and turns away.

“I know you hate it, Jyn. But it’s just a bad habit, okay, not some kind of mortal sin.” Now he’s really angry.

How can she make him understand? “It’s got nothing to do with morality, Cassian. I just—I can’t—I don’t want to have to think of you dying!”

Echoing in her head she hears Saw’s harsh, rasping breath through the oxygen mask he’d had to use for the last year of his life, the squeaky wheels of the tank dragging behind him like a ball and chain.

“I know I’ve been driving you crazy, so you should be happy. Now you won’t have to deal with me nagging you anymore.”

“I’ve been smoking since I was sixteen, okay? It’s going to take some time for me to stop. Can’t you be…” he hesitates, probably knowing how ridiculous it’s going to sound even before he says it, “supportive?”

“Apparently not,” Jyn snaps. She _was_ supportive, dammit—she encouraged him to stop. And when he kept making excuses, she kept on encouraging him. He just never followed through.

He steps forward and she warns him off with a look. “Can we talk about it, Jyn?”

“Are you going to quit?”

“Yes! Just not right this second, for Christ’s sake, can’t you have a little patience?”

No. Patience is not something Jyn’s ever had time for. “Then we don’t have anything to talk about.” She is not crying, she is not not _not_ crying. “Goodbye, Cassian. Take care.”

She sets the key he gave her on the counter with a soft, conclusive click, and turns to leave.

Part of her is still hoping to hear his step behind her: in the dim hallway, down the narrow stairs, in the cold, echoing lobby, she listens for it. But he doesn’t follow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks later: their meeting, from Cassian's POV.
> 
> This is for **ibonekoen** , **TinCanTelephone** , and everyone else who mentioned wanting to see an extension of the original one-shot. I hope you like it!

Thirteen days after Cassian bumped into Jyn at the dépanneur, a text from her pops up on his phone—just a time and a place and a businesslike _let me know if that doesn’t work_.

Cassian knows full well that he’s reading too much into this gesture. He shouldn’t assume that the fact Jyn agreed to see him means she might be open to the idea of getting back together. But he’s never been able to play it cool when it comes to Jyn, and every time he tells himself to be realistic, his brain insists on replaying the instant that she kissed him.

Yes, it was just a peck. No, she probably didn’t mean anything more by it than encouragement. Still—she _kissed_ him. He can’t help overthinking it. Or working himself into an anxious fret over whether she’s going to stand him up when she’s fifteen minutes late.

He tries to distract himself by surveying the place she chose to meet. Trust Jyn to find the only rooftop bar in Montréal not infested with hipsters. This place seems to be an unpretentious neighbourhood hangout; there are people of all ages, a few families with strollers, even a game of bocce going on in one corner surrounded by netting. The faint breeze up here is a blessed relief from the sticky, humid air of summer in the city. 

Cassian tips another long swallow of beer down his throat, and then places the half-empty bottle in the precise centre of his coaster, adjusting its edge exactly parallel to the bartop. He'll give it another ten minutes before he leaves. (Who is he kidding; he’d wait a lot longer for Jyn.)

In a very unamusing irony, he’s more desperate for a cigarette right now than he’s been in months. His fingers twitch and he can nearly taste the bittersweet tang of nicotine in the back of his throat. A bar is one of the few places you can still be certain of finding smokers; in fact, the bartender has a pack in the back pocket of her jeans. He could easily bum a smoke...

“Sorry I'm late, work was insane.” Jyn hops breathlessly onto the stool beside him. “Is this place okay?”

“It's great,” he says, turning to say hello, and almost swallows his tongue at the sight of Jyn. In the last seven months, he’s lost any resistance he’d built up to seeing her fierce beauty every day.

Her changeable sea-coloured eyes are shaded with dark kohl, her hair is sliding loose down her back instead of bundled in a knot like the last time he saw her. It’s longer, too—maybe she hasn’t cut it since they broke up? Her black tank top bares the lean strength of her shoulders but he tries to keep his eyes above her collarbone. Jyn doesn’t dress to impress; she’s wearing this because it’s hot, not for him. 

It’s stiff and awkward at first, as much as Cassian hoped it wouldn’t be. Every topic of conversation seems to call up uncomfortable memories. 

But Cassian soldiers on, doggedly making awful small talk about the weather. The conversation finally flows more easily once he mentions going back to Mexico at Christmas for a break from the winter and to meet his new baby niece. (It was also to escape seeing the ghost of Jyn on every corner, but he doesn’t say that.) He complains about his sister’s well-meaning but tactless husband. She tells him about tentatively trying to reconnect with her father, wondering if it’s worth it when they live an ocean apart; Galen’s gone back to Denmark.

Somehow that leads to him telling the story of finally meeting Kay’s three even taller and more terrifying siblings. By the end of it, Jyn's laughing in the familiar way, with her hand covering her mouth as though she has to hide her amusement.

They talk for a few drinks and a few hours. Cassian doesn’t realize how late it is until the string of lights dangling from the rafters above flicker on and the reflections shine in her eyes. Jyn shivers—this early in the summer, no matter how hot it is during the day, as soon as the sun goes down it's chilly—and he offers her the jacket hanging from the back of his stool. She hesitates, but shrugs it on with something fond hovering in the dimple at the corner of her mouth. 

Frankly, Jyn wearing his clothes was always one of Cassian’s biggest turn ons. Something about her delicate but strong frame smothered in his leather jacket makes his mouth dry up and he forgets to breathe for a second. She folds the cuffs back so her hands aren't swallowed up by the sleeves and reaches for her whiskey.

“So I really wanted to say something to you the other night.” She rubs a finger around the rim of her glass with a wet squeak. “But I had trouble getting it out.”

Here it comes. She’s going to tell him that this has been great, but she’s actually engaged. Or planning to move to Denmark. Or given up on men altogether.

She tosses the rest of her drink down in one swallow, ice cubes rattling, and thumps the glass back down on the bar. She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she says abruptly, and nothing more. 

Cassian stares at her like an idiot and she flushes red, her lips pressing together in a tight line. All he can say in response is “What?” 

“I was such an asshole to you and I know this is too little too late but ever since we ran into each other I’ve wanted to tell you that,” comes out of her on one long breath.

In other words, Jyn is only here because she wanted to apologize to him, find some kind of closure. Somehow it's even worse that this was a pity thing. Cassian picks at the label of his beer and tries to keep his face blankly neutral, hoping his disappointment doesn’t show.

“I’d say we were both assholes,” he tells her, which is true. “Lying and hiding what I was doing from you wasn’t my finest moment either.”

She sighs and pokes at the melting ice cubes in her glass with a finger. “No. But I feel like I started it. I was—pretty intense with the harassment.”

“There’s plenty of blame to go around,” he says wearily. “Don’t worry about it.” 

And just then, the bartender announces last call. Cassian looks around; the crowd has thinned out considerably, the roof is nearly empty. He and Jyn are the only people left sitting at the bar. 

All of the excited, fizzing anticipation he felt at the beginning of the night has curdled into misery. He pulls out his wallet and throws a couple of bills on the bar to cover the tab. “Well. I should be going. Thanks for texting, it was good to see you.”

Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “Are you—?” She sounds unusually timid. “I thought you might want to walk me home.”

“Sure,” he agrees automatically.

“I mean, walk me _home_.”

Again, it takes him a moment to catch on. Cassian is definitely behind the eight ball tonight. But when he sees her teeth sinking into her lip, he clues in at last. He wants to reach for her hand and drag her out of the bar, down the stairs, and back to her place—if she’s serious.

He gulps back his first, instinctive answer of _hell yes_ and runs a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to ask what he needs to know first. “Are you thinking about more than tonight? Because I can't do this if it's just one last time with an ex. If you’re lonely and want company, I’ll hang out with you, but don’t ask me to sleep with you unless it means starting over.”

There, he’s bared his pathetically sentimental heart for her. Jyn can be thoughtless sometimes, but she’s not cruel. She won’t ask him again.

“I’ve been lonely for seven months, Cassian.” Jyn doesn’t look at him; she stares down at her index finger, drawing lines and loops between overlapping rings of condensation on the scarred wood of the bartop. “I made a mistake. I wanted to go back as soon as I walked out the door, but I couldn’t.”

And Cassian had wanted to run after her, but he hadn’t. He shakes his head in disbelief at their combined stubborn idiocy. He slides his hand over hers on the bar, feeling the warm tension of her wrist, and squeezes lightly. She looks up at him and smiles, barely, just a tiny curl at the corner of her mouth.

There’s just one more thing Cassian needs to ask. He steels himself, because it could bring this giddy mood crashing down, but he has to know. “A lot of people can’t manage to quit for good the first time they try. Would it—would you leave if I started smoking again?”

Jyn doesn't give an immediate, kneejerk answer, but thinks it over for a moment, her face serious. “Let’s make a deal. If you backslide, tell me. Don’t try to hide it—no sneaking around or lying. And if it happens, I won’t yell or nag. Okay? I’ll be...” her smile develops a cutting edge, “supportive.”

Cassian groans. He deserved that, he supposes. He bumps his stool closer to hers so that her knees slot between his, leans down and allows himself to breathe in the faint, fresh scent of her hair and skin. “That seems awfully reasonable,” he murmurs in her ear.

“I can be reasonable,” she scoffs, her back straightening.

But that only brings the tender skin of her neck closer to his mouth, and he leans in even farther, his lips just brushing her flesh, painting it with goosebumps as she shivers. She inhales deeply and tips her head toward him, closing the last fraction of space between her skin and his mouth. 

Suddenly Cassian feels very drunk, far more intoxicated than three beers over a couple of hours could cause. He slides his nose up the curve of her ear and thinks about placing his teeth just _there_ at the crease in her earlobe. If he bites down gently it might make her shiver again...

“Last call,” the bartender repeats, loud and close, and they jump apart. 

Cassian throws another bill down to boost the tip in compensation for their PDA and slides off his stool, tugging Jyn after him. They hurry across the rooftop to the stairs, and Cassian launches down them carelessly fast. Jyn snags his elbow and halts him at the first landing, drapes her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a lingering kiss.

He hasn't forgotten the way Jyn tastes; he's not sure he ever could. But the reality of her mouth on his is a thousand times more vivid and powerful than his memories. His fingers tighten on her waist, running up and down the curve of her hips, wandering up beneath his loose jacket to play with the straps of her tank top and the bare skin of her shoulders. Her fingernails scrape through the short hair at the nape of his neck and it's his turn to shudder.

“Take me home,” she whispers. “Please.”

Cassian tips his forehead to rest against hers and tries to stop grinning long enough to kiss her again. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention that the setting for this story in my head was always Montréal; I just stated it explicitly in this installment.
> 
> In case you're wondering what a [dépanneur](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%A9panneur) is.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Hallowe'en I offered to write "trick or treat" ficlets; this one's for a prompt from **sobsister** , who wanted something wintery for this AU.

The door on the main floor banged open, and Jyn blew in on a gust of frozen air and a flurry of snow that travelled halfway up the staircase to her apartment. In her living room, Cassian shivered and zipped his hoodie all the way up to the base of his neck.

“Why the _fuck_ do people live in this climate?” Jyn shouted from the bottom. She stomped up the stairs, her voice becoming clearer as she unwrapped the scarf around her mouth. “This is insane.”

At the top, she kicked her boots off in the hall, scattering more snow. “The snowbanks are already like mountains out there. And some jerk brought his skis on the metro and nearly took my eye out.” She dropped her sopping mitts on the radiator.

Cassian looked up from his laptop. “Maybe he’s planning on skiing to work tomorrow.”

“Well, I won't be,” Jyn said. “They told us not to bother coming in unless there’s a lot less snow than forecast.”

He pressed his thumbs to his forehead, trying to chase away the incipient deadline headache. “Sure, rub it in,” he grumbled.

“I’ll make it worth your while. You can take breaks, can’t you?” Jyn flung herself on the couch and tackled him, pushing her cold nose into his neck and worming her hands under his shirt and up into his armpits. A high-pitched squeak of shock escaped Cassian and he grabbed at Jyn’s hands, tugging them away from his skin. He folded his hands around her icy fingers to rub warmth into them, lifted them to his mouth and blew on them. Her eyes closed in pleasure as he kissed her chapped knuckles.

“I think I’m due for one right now.”

 

Cassian woke to the eerie incandescence of a winter night glowing through the blinds. He slid out of bed and walked over to the window, pushing them aside.

The view was already framed by a lacy pattern of frost on the perimeter of the glass. Cassian touched one fingertip to it, melting a clear oval, and shivered. It was no longer snowing, but at least two feet had fallen overnight. The city was muffled in an unearthly silence. The street outside was a smooth white duvet of rounded lumps hiding parked cars, garbage cans, hydrants—everything modern except the fuzzy globes of the streetlights. No one was out; no tracks of feet or wheels had marked the pristine surface.

In the distance the dark slope of Mont Royal rose into the sky, the garish white cross on the hillside almost invisible against the pale sky. It was still long before dawn, but the clouds reflecting back the snow washed everything in a dull, soft, sourceless light. It was beautiful as long as you didn’t have to think about going outside.

He shivered again and let the blinds drop. When he crawled back into bed Jyn made a muffled noise of displeasure as his cold feet touched hers, but then rolled over and burrowed into him, one hand sneaking up under his shirt to stroke his ribs.

“You definitely don’t have to go into work today,” he told the crown of her head. “Go back to sleep.”

She hummed against his chest. “I can think of better ways to spend a snow day.” Her fingertips trailed slowly down the furrow of his spine to the small of his back and the tremor that followed her touch wasn’t from the cold.

Cassian plunged under the blankets, ducking his head to breathe into the valley between Jyn’s breasts. He crept lower, teasing the hem of her sweater up with his thumbs, kissing the dip of her navel and across the soft plane of her belly, pressing his mouth to her through her leggings until she moaned and lifted her hips so he could pull them off.

 

Afterward they dozed for a few more hours until Cassian could no longer ignore his internal alarm clock. Jyn might have the day off, but as a software developer, he could work from home and on deadline the company would expect him to—unless he got lucky and the internet connection went down.

He pressed a kiss to Jyn’s shoulder and rolled out of bed to start the first of several pots of coffee he’d need to get through the day. Quitting smoking hadn’t done his caffeine habit any good, that was for sure.

In the hall, he heard Jyn stamping her feet into her Sorels. “I want pancakes, I’m going to the dép for more eggs,” she called. “Can I borrow your parka?”

“Take this too.” The hardwood floor was icy under his feet as he walked into the hallway and pulled his thick wool scarf from its hook to wrap around her neck.

“Get more coffee cream, please.” He kissed the tip of Jyn’s nose and she tilted her chin up to free her mouth from the scarf for a second, lingering kiss. Her lips were warm and soft and they tasted like everything he wanted. It was hard to pull away. “And hurry up. I want to make you pancakes.” 

Being snowed in had its compensations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [original Tumblr post](https://incognitajones.tumblr.com/post/166851479588/i-love-the-trick-or-treat-idea-and-im-just-going) includes photos of Montréal snowstorms, if you want to see what winter in Québec is like.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A revised & expanded version of a Tumblr prompt fill for **christinakerying**.
> 
> I feel like this doesn't _quite_ rate the "Cassian Andor: cunnilingus addict" tag, but only because it's all talk and no action... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“Cassian, what the hell?!” 

He looked up at her, blinking, and Jyn waved a hand at the litter surrounding him on her couch like fallen leaves: wax paper candy wrappers, foil gum wrappers, the crinkling cellophane covers from lollipops. There was one of them in his mouth right now, the little white stick poking out at a ridiculous, jaunty angle. 

“Deadline this week.” The muscles in his cheek bulged, rolling around the hard candy as he spoke. 

“That doesn’t explain why my apartment looks like the day after Hallowe’en.” Jyn propped her fists on her hips, trying to stay annoyed, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Cassian’s hair was a floppy mess from running his hands through it and his eyes were absent, unfocused in the way he got when he was lost in strings of code. 

He shoved his laptop away and started brushing the wrappers scattered over the coffee table into a pile. Jyn kicked her way through the drifts of paper on the floor and dropped into his lap, pinning him in place with the weight of her thighs across his. She raked her fingers through his hair, scratching at the tension bound up in his scalp. Cassian groaned, letting his neck go lax and resting his forehead between her breasts. 

“Sorry about the mess,” he mumbled around the lollipop. “I promise I’ll clean it up.”

“It’s okay.” Jyn pushed her thumbs into the taut cords of Cassian’s neck. This might not be the right time, but she’d been meaning to say something about this ever since they got back together. “You know, you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. Stop apologizing for every little thing.”

His neck tensed under her hands. “I just don’t want to screw up again.”

“Cassian.” She sighed into his hair. “We talked about this. Both of us screwed up. And I know I do plenty of shit that pisses you off. Feel free to yell at me when I do, okay?”

“Okay.” His fingers ran idly up and down the outside of her thighs. “But the same goes for you.”

“I yell at you all the time.” 

“I mean, tell me what you’re thinking. Sometimes…” the words trailed off into the fabric of her shirt. “You don’t talk much, and sometimes I don’t know what you mean, or whether you want something as much as I do.”

“I say what I mean,” Jyn protested. Come on, tactless was practically her middle name. What was Cassian talking about?

He lifted his head and looked up at her, eyebrows angled skeptically. “Yeah? Remember asking me to walk you home from the bar, when what you really meant was come home with me and try again?”

Jyn bit her lip, scowling. He had her there. “Fine,” she grumbled. Time to change the subject. “That still doesn’t explain why you bought out Willy Wonka’s factory. I know you have a sweet tooth, but seriously?”

“You know I used to chainsmoke when I was on deadline. So I had to find a substitute after I quit, but that nicotine gum tastes horrible and I really need something to distract me from wanting a smoke while I work…”

“Are you saying you need to occupy your mouth?” Jyn swept her hands down to his shoulders and dug her thumbs into the tight muscles there. “Because I can think of at least three better things you could be doing with it.” 

“Only three?” His grin curled awkwardly around the cardboard stalk. “I must be losing my touch.” 

His mouth was shiny and swollen, stained red from candy. Jyn traced his sticky bottom lip with her thumb, watching his eyes flicker down to her hand. She pulled the lollipop out of his mouth with a wet noise and dropped it on the floor. Holding his head steady between her hands, feeling the rasp of his stubble against her palms, she licked the cloying sweetness of artificial cherry flavour from his lips. 

His mouth opened under hers, drawing her deeper into the kiss. Jyn fastened herself to Cassian like she needed the oxygen from his lungs, pressing him back against the couch. She pulled his bottom lip between hers and sucked on the sticky flesh that tasted of sugar and chalky candy. She sank into the kiss, slow and lazy and thorough, winding her arms around his neck and melting into him.

“Jyn,” Cassian breathed against her lips. “Should I do something else with my mouth now?”

He cupped his hands under her ass and spread his knees, dropping her lower and pulling her tight against him. She shifted her weight, the rough denim of her jeans chafing her as she rocked into him. His warm hands settled at the small of her back, fingers teasing lightly up her spine under her shirt while his mouth slid down her neck. Jyn was tingling, burning, her clothes too tight and her skin too hot. She squirmed in his lap, desperate for more. 

“What do you want?” Cassian murmured, his mouth hovering hot and wet over her pulse, his fingers undoing the buttons of her shirt.

“I want your mouth on me,” Jyn said, breathless but trying to sound self-assured. She still felt silly saying it: put that way, bald and plain, it seemed so cheesy. 

But it was definitely the right thing to say, judging from the way Cassian’s breath caught and the small, eager noise he made against her skin. “Say that again,” he demanded, his hands tightening on her hips. “Tell me where you want my mouth.”

“One condition.” A tiny, fond laugh bubbled in Jyn’s throat and she held it back. “No corny lines about how I’m sweeter than candy.”

He dropped his head and groaned against her collarbone. “Christ, that’s unfair. Why can’t I tell you how good you taste?”

“I said no sugar metaphors, I didn’t make any other stipulations.”

“Hmm.” She could feel his slow smile moving over her skin. “So can I say I want to eat you out until you lose track of how many times you’ve come?”

Jyn’s whole body twitched, her nerves jerking and firing with sparks. “I think you just did.” Her voice cracked in her dry mouth. She slid backward on Cassian's legs, almost falling off his knees, put her feet on the floor—and swore. “I stepped on your lollipop.”

Cassian laughed, the rough bristle of his chin tantalizing against the swell of her breast. “I’d apologize again, but that one’s on you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two more short winter ficlets, the second of which was a Tumblr "trick or treat" prompt fill for **TinCanTelephone**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend browsing offtomontreal’s Instagram for atmosphere ([for example](https://www.instagram.com/p/BgZqM2LHd-e/)).

“Cassian?” Jyn called from the hallway. “You left something in your parka.”

He dropped his spoon on the kitchen counter and leaped for the door. But it was too late; Jyn’s hand was already in the pocket.

She held up a folded wad of paper—the printed email he’d stuffed in there last night and forgotten—and read it out loud, squinting at the small type. “Flight confirmation from Dorval to Mexico City, departing on December 23? …Oh.” 

Jyn pressed her lips together for an instant. He saw a shadow of hurt flicker across her face, but she blinked it away and tried to make a joke. “I didn’t know you were going back there for Christmas this year. That’s pretty mean, leaving me here to shovel all the snow.”

“Actually, it’s for two tickets,” he blurted. “I was hoping you’d come with me this time.”

 _Shit_. Cassian had thought about this moment a lot since they’d moved in together. In fact, he’d worked out an entire elaborate plan for how he was going to ask Jyn to come down and meet his family, and this was definitely not how it went. He rubbed his hand over his chin, nervously scratching at his beard.

Jyn didn’t say anything more. She stood in the hall, the parka she always “borrowed” from him dangling to the floor off one shoulder, and stared at him.

Cassian was starting to worry that this had been a really bad idea. “I booked a hotel, we don’t have to stay with María and Antonio.” Best to clarify that right away; staying in their house would no doubt be too much for Jyn. And to be honest, if Cassian could avoid spending too much time with Toño he’d be just as happy.

Jyn opened her mouth and closed it. Cassian crossed his fingers and prayed. 

“Okay?” she said tentatively. And then she smiled, her voice growing firmer. “Sure. Yes.”

“Thank you,” Cassian breathed. He wrapped his hands at her waist, rubbing his thumbs on her hips, and pulled her close to tap a kiss on her nose. “Just—be prepared for a fuss. You’re the first person I’ve wanted to bring home to meet my big sister. She’s probably going to go a little nuts.”

She blinked again, her eyes going wide. “Really?”

“Really.” He kissed her forehead too and laid his cheek on the top of her head, nestling his nose into her hair and breathing in deep. The quiet sense of wholeness that always filled him when Jyn was in his arms swelled in his chest.

Hopefully, step two of his plan (the part that involved asking whether she might perhaps, eventually, want to marry him someday) would work out this well.

* * *

Bodhi, visiting from Vancouver, has declared that he misses “real winter” and dragged them all for a skate at Lac aux Castors. Even on a Thursday evening in January, the outdoor rink is busy with both tourists and locals, gliding or shuffling or mincing.

After a decade in Canada, Cassian is a decent skater, though he’ll never be boldly confident on the ice. He’s content to weave slowly through the crowd, watching his friends. Bodhi is teaching Luke, who’s picking it up much faster than Cassian would’ve expected a California kid to catch on. “Used to rollerblade,” he calls in explanation as the two of them pass by.

Baze and Chirrut move together along the outer edge where the crowd is sparse, fluid and stately, Chirrut’s arm tucked secure in the crook of Baze’s elbow. Kay skates alone, his long legs pistoning and arms folded behind him like a speedskater. Somehow he manages to be smooth and even without being in the least graceful.

Jyn is fast and skillful but erratic. She lent Bodhi her skates, so she’s wearing a rental pair that need sharpening and make her normally smooth stride a little choppy. The bright blue pompom on her Leafs toque bobs as she darts in and out of the crowd, garnering annoyed looks from the Habs fans in red jerseys.

She flashes by again, builds up speed and pivots into a crisp stop right in front of him, spraying Cassian with ice. He grabs her around the waist and reels her in closer, sticking his cold hands under her down vest for the pleasure of hearing her shriek in offense.

Jyn takes his hand and they skate together in cautious ovals, watching out for the little kids unsteady on their skates and the tourists who are walking on ice. It takes a moment to work their way into sync but after a lap of the ice surface they’re moving in unison, covering the same distance with each stride despite the differing lengths of their legs. She turns around to skate backward in front of him, still holding his hand and smiling at him.

It’s a postcard moment: the biting air, the twinkling lights strung from bare branches overhead reflected in Jyn’s eyes and the snowflakes melting in her hair, the delighted grin on her face. Their skate blades rasp as they cut into the uneven ice.

When they’re all stiff from the cold, ears tingling, they clamber off the ice and put their boots back on before a stop at the little kiosk for hot chocolate with cinnamon or marshmallows or whipped cream (and maybe a little Baileys from Jyn’s flask).

On the walk home from their metro stop, he kisses her again. Jyn’s mouth is cold and sweet with chocolate, her cheeks are scoured red, the tip of her nose bright. He cups her face in his hands, warming her with his palms, and kisses heat into her lips until they’re both flushed and glowing.


End file.
